


Hurting inside and out

by vintagestucky



Series: We'll get there. [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky left, Hurt Steve Rogers, I'm Bad At Summaries, Idiots in Love, Lots of Angst, M/M, Modern Setting, Not Canon Compliant, Paralysis, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve is so angry, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Sam Wilson, War Veteran Steve Rogers, also I have the vocabulary of a 2nd grader, but he comes back so it's fine, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 22:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagestucky/pseuds/vintagestucky
Summary: Last year, Steve was expecting to be dead. His army based had been bombed, and he'd been pretty severely injured. But he didn't die. Now he's on the mend, mostly. Bucky never came to see him, and he tried not to take it personally. Some days are better than others, and Bucky just happens to show up on a particularly shitty Friday morning. And argument and too much rage ensues.





	Hurting inside and out

It had been a year as of last week. A year since Steve’s army base had been bombed, and a little over eleven months since he’d woken up in the hospital, scared and alone. But what had hurt Steve the most was not his injury—but the fact that he hadn’t seen Bucky since the accident. Not a phone call, text or even letter from Bucky had made it’s way to Steve. But, he willed himself to get out of bed and out of the house, to get to physical therapy, day after day. 

 

Some days, he still woke up in a cold sweat from eerily realistic nightmares, those always ended up being bad days, his worst, in fact. There seemed to be no way for those types of days to be good, especially If they had already started off terribly. He always woke up picturing the desert, the yelling and screaming, and the overall terrifying aura of a war that he was far away from now. He was safe, but sometimes he didn’t feel safe.

 

Bucky had left him to stab in the dark. Fend for himself alone, well, mostly alone. It still hurt, even up to the current day. In an odd way, for a long time, Steve blamed himself. Deep down, he knew it was never his fault, but when he thought (or over thought) about it, he always ended up coming to the same conclusion: That he was somehow to Blame.

 

Yes, Steve had Sam, but Sam had never been there to talk to the way Bucky had—Him and Bucky had been _together_. And, if Steve was being honest with himself, it was painful. Mentally and physically. All of it was, the anxiety and over thinking, and the physical pain, too. There were some days where the pain seemed so unbearable, and on those days he stayed in bed. On those days he felt like getting out of bed was poking the bear. But at the same time, staying in bed felt like hiding. He hated it. But he hated the pain more, so he stayed.

 

He stayed, most of the time he slept, he usually needed the rest, other times he sketched, watched movies, or read. He enjoyed sleeping the most, but preferred drawing over watching movies. And he did quite enjoy reading. Sometimes, if he had nothing to do, he’d just sit there, which he absolutely despised, it was such a waste of time. Worst of all, if he sat around for too long, he thought. Sitting lead to thinking and thinking lead to overthinking. Overthinking lead to anxiety, which lead to anxiety attacks. The only person he was able to get ahold of during these moments was Sam, and Sam did a pretty damn good job of helping, in Steve’s opinion. 

 

The past week for Steve had been uneventful, which, as of late wasn’t particularly uncommon. Three consecutive days of physical therapy had left him feeling sore and overworked, which again, was rather painful. Today was just one of those days, a bad one, that is. He already been woken up a quarter past one due to night terror, and although he’d managed to get back to sleep, he woke again as six o’clock. He was running on less sleep then he’d needed to be well rested.

 

That particular Friday morning was already decidedly painful, the worst one in a while, perhaps. Steve decided he might as well be productive, so he reached over for the book on his night stand beside him. He was curled up in bed reading. Steve was a quarter of the way through his book when he heard a knock at the door. _Knock…knock…knock_. Steve figured it was Sam, well, until he heard a second knock. _Knock…knock…knock_. It couldn’t have been Sam, Sam knew where the extra key was. So much for staying in bed… 

  
Steve sighed, glancing at the chair across for his bed, his wheelchair, that is. He again,  willed himself to transfer over from bed to chair as he’d been taught when he first came home from the hospital, they told him of all the things he’d have to adjust to, that being one of them. He managed with a general success, and rolled his way out of his bedroom, through his apartment’s kitchen and living room, to the front door. He couldn’t exactly look through the peephole, so he’s just unlocked the door and opened it. 

 

There he was. Just like that. James Buchanan Barnes was staring him in the face with those familiar ocean hued eyes. He’d waited a year for this moment, and now he was just angry. His mind was racing, thinking, trying to pick, out of all the things he could say, of what he might actually say to Bucky.

 

The first thing that came out of his mouth was, “Oh, my god!” Steve lamented his anguish by gritting his teeth and blowing his breath out. He was fuming. It had been a year, and this was the day he picked? He had picked today, of all days, on this particularly painful Friday morning, Over a year later. How could he have waited a full year? _How dare he,_ Steve thought to himself. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Bucky let out. He was trying not to act shocked. He knew that Steve had been injured, but he’d never really known the extent of it. He was surprised to see Steve sitting in a wheelchair, but had hidden his surprise the moment the first words had spilled out of Steve’s mouth.

 

Almost without thinking, Steve slammed the door. He didn’t think about how harsh it was that he’s just slammed the door in Bucky’s face. He furious, rightfully so, and Bucky knew that, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.  

 

“I just want to talk,”

 

“Go away. We have nothing to talk about.”  

 

“Please?” Bucky sighed in defeat, pounding his fist against the door yet again.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“I— I don’t know. I just felt like today was the day I needed to see you.” Steve’s heart dropped. Today was already the worst, and being this angry really wasn’t helping.

 

He opened the door once again, before rubbing his face before saying, “Don’t. Just don’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I don't want to fucking see you! Why don’t you get that?” Steve couldn’t control his rage or emotions in general at this point. He could feel himself breaking down, which, at that point, didn’t really feel like the most important issue at hand.

 

“I thought-“ Bucky sighed.

 

“What? You thought that you could just show up? After you left me?” 

  
“Listen, I know that you don’t want me here, but I needed to see you, I needed to tell you what’s going on, why I left.” Bucky expressed quietly, fiddling with his hands. He was so god damned nervous, and Steve wasn’t making it any less stressful.

 

“It’s been over a year! A year full of shitty days when you could’ve been there with me. A year of days filled with surgeries and doctors appointments. You could’ve been there For all of it! But you weren’t! You left when I needed you! You could’ve told me everything months ago. We could’ve talked. But you weren’t there.” Steve shouted, not even bothering to consider  getting a noise complaint from the neighbors, rather just wanting to release an ocean’s worth of pent up anger and sadness. A few tears managed too squeeze themselves out of his eyes.

 

“What else do you want me to say, Steve! I was Scared!”

 

“And you think I wasn’t?” 

 

“That's not—I didn’t mean it like that.” Bucky sighed yet again, it felt like everything he was saying was coming out wrong. All he wanted to do was talk to Steve, and he was screwing it up again. Exactly like last years’ debacle, or, at least that’s what he thought.

 

“Then how did you mean it, Buck. I was there when you needed me. I was there when you woke up without your arm. How was it any different in my case?” 

 

“It wasn’t—it’s not, okay.” Bucky was frustrated, out of any argument he’d ever had, this was the worst one. He could barely get out a full sentence out, not only because he was being interrupted, but because he was at a loss for words—he didn’t know what he wanted to say, or how he was to say it. 

 

“You didn’t even bother to show up-“

 

“I know, I know, and that was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry, I just want to talk to you-“

 

“We have nothing to talk about. I told you. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to talk to you—I don’t want anything to do with you.” That was an utter lie. Steve wanted to be with Bucky again, he was just so angry. He didn’t really know if he could forgive him. Steve really, really regretted saying it. 

 

“Steve,” an eye roll resulted. “Can I say what I need to say.” Bucky’s expression turned gravely serious. 

 

“Do whatever you want, it’s not like I’m going to walk away.”

 

“Steve. I’m serious.” Bucky frowned. 

 

“So am I.” Steve frowned back, letting out a sigh of frustration.

 

 

A long moment of residual silence fell over the both of them. Neither of them spoke a word, which, judging from the conversation they’d just had, sounded like it was for the best. 

 

“Come in.” Steve had finally said, after what had seemed like an eternity to Bucky.

 

Buck didn’t say anything, rather, just stepped over the threshold of the front door to Steve’s apartment, glancing back and forth. It hadn’t changed, which he found somewhat hilarious. But he didn’t laugh, as he knew Steve was already angry enough. 

 

Steve wheeled himself into the kitchen, immediately opening the fridge, and grabbing two glasses off of the counter. He grabbed the orange juice and set it on the table, pouring both glasses with the caution of a little kid who was afraid they might spill the jug. Steve then put the orange juice back, and said, “We’ll talk.” His tone was extremely passive aggressive. Bucky didn’t blame him.

 

Bucky sat down in one of the dining room chairs, Steve rolled into an empty space.

 

“Look,” Bucky said, “I screwed this up, I know. And I’m sorry. You have every reason to hate me, and to not forgive me. But I’ve been missing you like crazy… every single day, and I regret not coming to see you.” 

 

Steve’s blood was still boiling… but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still head over heels in love with Bucky. Love out-ruled anger, which, was fortunate, again, for the both of them.

 

“I don’t hate you, never have, never will, But I’m still angry at you.”

 

“And I don’t blame you, it was an asshole move on my part. I shouldn’t have left,” he sighed, “but do you still _…_ you know _…_ love me?” Those words felt foreign on his tongue, like it wasn’t even a real question. He knew Steve loved him—but the idea of falling out of love worried him for more than it was worth.

 

“Who said I ever stopped?” And Bucky couldn’t help but smile. He’d waited and waited, thought about how this day would go. That was one of the reasons he put off going for so long. He’d thought, and over thought, and had too many expectations, basically planning the entire conversation in his head. And he’d been scared for it to go … like it went. The worst thing Steve could’ve said was ‘go away’ but that didn’t mean Bucky actually had to leave. 

 

He wanted to fix this.

 

In that moment he was speechless, he just continued grinning to his heart content, which perhaps had been his first genuine smile in what felt like an eternity. He realized that he probably looked like an idiot. Steve didn’t seem to think so, he returned the smile, and may have laughed a little bit. 

 

“y’know,” Steve started, “I really did miss you. I’m sorry I got so upset. It’s just one of those days,”

 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, I wanted to come, I was just so anxious.” He sighed, yet again, and continued, “And don’t I know. Some days are better than others.” 

 

Steve nodded his head in agreement, before Bucky said, “Am I at least making it better?” He asked, _somewhat_ sarcastically. 

 

“We’ll have to see. Why don’t you stay for awhile. We can watch a movie.” 

 

Bucky was up for it, anything that allowed him to spend time with Steve, that is. So, the two of them watched a movie together on Steve’s bed. Of course, just as he thought was going to happen, Steve fell asleep. But that was okay, they were in each other’s company. That was all Bucky needed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! thinking of making this into a series, not exactly sure though. let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!! :)


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